


A Familiar Scent

by jokocraft



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha Hubert, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Ferdinand, Pre-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokocraft/pseuds/jokocraft
Summary: Despite lingering resentments, Ferdinand and Hubert set aside their differences once a month for Ferdinand's heat—as they have been doing ever since he presented at fourteen.At the Officers Academy, their arrangement functions as just another part of their routine, like laundry or sky watch or ignoring each other during training. Of course, the proximity of dorms makes putting aside differences onlyoncea month all but impossible, but Hubert takes solace in knowing that none of it means anything. Certainly not their monogamy.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 11
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i have strong emotions for ferdinand von baby and also hubert's jp voice actor can step on me, bye
> 
> oh yeah i don't know shit about abo stuff so pretend u don't know shit either

Hubert rarely noticed his good moods until Edelgard made a comment.

 _“You look refreshed,”_ she might say at breakfast in the dining hall, expression carefully neutral.

If he walked a little quicker to class than usual, she would grin. _“So awake this morning.”_

Hubert would do his best to dissuade her from saying anything more, typically by changing the subject. He could not understand what was to be gained from acknowledging, in however a roundabout way, what he might have been doing the night before. Really, she might as well say, _Sex is mood boosting, isn’t it?_ And what was Hubert to say to that? He would say such a topic is entirely irrelevant. But she would not say that.

Today, she said in that same tone: “Maybe we should postpone your trip.”

Hubert stopped short in the corridor, which he confirmed with a glance was empty.

“Your Majesty, I can leave exactly when you need me to go.”

Edelgard gave him a considering look. “I know, but I have just remembered tomorrow is not ideal for you to travel, is it?”

She referred to his rut: always brief, intense, and unfailingly inconvenient. Hubert held back a sigh and leveled a glare the orange of dawn through the windows. “I have no need for ideal conditions. I could find an omega in any city or town who would suffice perfectly well.”

He started walking again and did not look at her. He did not need to look at her to know her thoughts.

“Hubert.”

“My Lady.”

“Postpone your travel.”

“There—”

“Must I make it an order?”

Hubert clenched his jaw. He would ask her why, except the answer to why was crystal. Ruts were not healthy to endure alone, especially at twenty, and Edelgard knew that Hubert’s history of business, per se, with omegas was rather limited. Limited to the geographical area of wherever one person happened to be. Currently, Garreg Mach Monastery. It was a not an incidental history.

In other words, she was well aware of the critical difference between “I could find an omega” and “I will.”

Hubert gave her a slight bow. “When shall I leave instead?”

After a moment of thought, Edelgard’s expression became stern. Hubert recognized it was a warning not to contest her answer even though he would not like it.

“You will leave following the conclusion of both your cycles this Moon.”

_*_

To Hubert, logic was a helpful and flexible justifier. If he wasted time having intercourse, it was because he was an alpha and had little choice in the matter. Logical. If he conducted such intercourse with only one omega without any intention of mating them, it was because having only one sexual associate, so to speak, was practical for a lifestyle requiring simplicity and discretion.

If Hubert did not proposition other omegas during a rut that coincided with time spent beyond the reach of that one associate—even if doing so was generally more logical and practical than alternatives—it was because the aforementioned associate would most certainly smell another omega on him, and that associate was unlikely to let such a smell go unremarked, and, being a omega, or perhaps, being Ferdinand von Aegir, that associate might make some strange fuss.

For Hubert’s purposes, there was no logic in tampering with a reliable arrangement, so he did not proposition other omegas.

And neither did Ferdinand proposition other alphas, as far as Hubert could smell, even if Hubert’s time away did on rare occasions overlap with his heats. Evidently, Ferdinand also was capable of being logical by finding his own way to avoid complicating their arrangement. Hubert mused that medication was likely involved, or perhaps Faith. He vaguely knew that enduring the peak of a cycle alone was unhealthy for omegas as well, but Hubert had never seen fit to ask Ferdinand “how he was doing.”

None of this logic, of course, could be outlined to Edelgard. It was far beneath her concern, and also, Hubert had a strong feeling Edelgard’s amused, roundabout commentating would only get worse if he did.

_*_

As Hubert should have known, if only because Edelgard had known, postponing plans turned out to be for the best. Hubert’s rut descended upon him like an anvil the very next afternoon, but instead of suffering in some dreary inn on the outskirts a drearier town, pulling his hair out and talking himself out of paying for sex, Hubert was in his well-insulated dorm room, a young nobleman of Aegir on his knees before him, whom Hubert disliked and disapproved but could trust to be clean and not compromise anything important.

A young nobleman who happened to be unreasonably handsome, which was not so much a bonus as it was an irony. Hubert enjoyed, in the pettiest corner of his heart, the high probability that innumerable richer, more powerful alphas would be pulling their hair out and paying far more than Hubert would ever pay to be in his position.

Ferdinand, inexplicably, performed as if Hubert were as rich and powerful as they got.

Coming to Garreg Mach, Hubert had expected Ferdinand to be hesitant about their new proximity: anxious perhaps about rendezvousing so near the public eye with someone of a rather murky reputation and ungainly appearance. But Ferdinand treated the change to their dynamic like the objectively convenient transition it was, and in addition to clearly appreciating the endless opportunities to condemn and criticize Hubert in person and not merely in writing, Ferdinand seemed to appreciate the endless variety of shadowy, inconspicuous corners Hubert could push him against when one of them smelled far too strong.

Ferdinand’s mouth could not take much, even with his fair amount of practice. Hubert didn’t mind. The earnestness Ferdinand always put into the act, as if it legitimately served to satisfy his desire to be a useful human being, made up for his lack of ability to use his throat for anything but speaking loudly.

Or of course—it was also likely Ferdinand tried his very best even in this base art because he, being who he was, loved the petting and praise it could earn him. It could be he only got on his knees without complaint because there was always a small chance Hubert was feeling generous.

He wasn’t, not today, but only because Hubert was too uncomfortably aware of how much he wanted to be.

When Ferdinand finished him, however, Hubert realized that Ferdinand had given himself a plain need to finish as well. This, or the embarrassment on Ferdinand's cheeks, put Hubert over the edge. 

He told himself it was only right that he stand, tuck himself in for the moment, and give Ferdinand some reciprocation with his left hand while petting him with his right. Truly efficient. 

"You only get better," he found himself murmuring after a minute or so. Ferdinand did not seem to hear, too busy drooling against his chest.

*

Hubert did not cope as well as Ferdinand seemed to upon discovering there was only one dorm between them now instead of a large swath of Adrestian countryside. For Hubert, it was one thing to convene on a schedule, restricting any thoughts about Ferdinand to a day or two, or at most three, each month. It was very much something else to be forced to witness Ferdinand flounce himself around on a daily basis. His blinding personality, his opinions and bluster, his impressive stupidity and equally impressive figure. 

All the training, the hearty meals, the confidence that having an audience inspired—it certainly wasn’t slowing down Ferdinand's physical maturity. So not only was Hubert managing schoolwork and co-masterminding a heretical coup: he had to suffer the strains and inconveniences of being a goddess-forsaken alpha like never before.

Not to mention his _hair,_ or the pheromones that seemed to seep from it for all that Hubert felt assaulted every time Ferdinand flipped his hair like a preening girl. It was maddening, how Ferdinand brushed his bangs out of his face again and again and again and _again_ because he was an idiot who unhappily rolled over every time his father demanded he get a haircut but kept it just long enough to need to brush out of his face endlessly. It would have been easier if Ferdinand was doing it on purpose to torture fools and alphas or people who were both, like Hubert, who could not help but memorize the motion, expect it, anticipate it, want it, dream of doing it himself. But no, Ferdinand was oblivious. Genuinely oblivious. 

No, Hubert was not coping as well. When he observed the other students interact with Ferdinand, he fiercely envied their indifference.

Of course, none of the students he envied had known Ferdinand since childhood. They hadn’t argued with him about the worth of imaginary friends, hadn't fought with pushes and shoves until Edelgard’s eyes welled with tears, hadn’t seen him shake like a leaf because he hated his family’s unspoken disappointment and pity for having presented all wrong.

None of those students had received a formal letter requesting Hubert’s assistance as a _noble alpha_ in an emergency to do with a _noble omega._ They hadn’t later found out through the whispers of servants that Ferdinand had gotten ill with fever for having suddenly, categorically refused to share an inch of space with any alpha in Aegir territory.

 _“Does he think he’s too good for them?”_ Hubert had overheard from a kitchen aid. She was answered, _“I think he is just scared, my love. Scared and unsure.”_

Young, wisened Edelgard had happened to have similar sentiments before Hubert’s father bent his arm into agreeing and he was sent away. To his bemoaning about being singled out for such a ridiculous task, she told him, _“I read once that some omegas are naturally picky, especially in heat._ _They can’t help it.”_

 _“Oh?_ _How exactly is von Aegir helpless?”_ Hubert nearly laughed. _“A noble omega with everyone at his beck and call?”_

But Edelgard’s eyes had been heavy with something that stuck with him the entire ride north. _“I am not helpless. But I only feel safe with a certain few.”_

Hubert could only try not to think about how Ferdinand could possibly mix up the concepts of a von Vestra and safety. 

For nearly everyone at Garreg Mach, Ferdinand only had warm smiles and critical little frowns. No despair or unfettered shame, sitting folded up in bed, holding Hubert’s traveling cloak in his arms like he couldn’t tell if it was toxic waste or solid gold for its distinct alpha’s scent.

Hubert, only sixteen years of age himself, wasn’t formally expected to do anything more than literally lay with Ferdinand in his oversized bed. Sharing space with an alpha eased heat fevers well enough for omegas too young for consenting sex. Scenting an alpha’s clothes also helped with fevers. Most conducive to recovery, however, was scenting the neck, but for young omegas that was still rather risqué. Hubert was not at all surprised when Ferdinand refrained.

Ferdinand only kept his nose deep in the cloak, curled up under the covers with his back turned to Hubert. Hubert kept the maximum recommended distance between them most of the day: four inches. The hours passed slowly. Ferdinand mostly slept or shivered. Hubert never touched him once. He finished the book he’d brought for the ride and eventually resorted to reading silly novels of Ferdinand’s. He would have been comfortably bored if not for all the unfamiliar urges and mild physical reactions to being near an omega in heat.

“I’m sorry,” Ferdinand mumbled, late into the evening.

Hubert responded without thinking. “It’s alright.”

At the monastery, it was no longer alright. Ferdinand von Aegir and Ferdinand during his heat were most easily understood by Hubert as two separate entities. But there was no stopping the Ferdinand in his dorm bed from undressing to reveal a body ever broader and capable and defined, ever more a man’s. There was no stopping the noble nuisance Ferdinand von Aegir from taking a seat a few library tables away, quietly studying but mostly watching Hubert study, as if Hubert hadn’t recognized his smell the moment he came in.

It was impossible, in Hubert's mind, for the two entities not to merge into one vivid person when they had the exact same familiar scent.


	2. Chapter 2

Hubert’s sheets were damp.

Ferdinand sat in his lap, arms a vice around his shoulders. He shivered and twitched as he bore another intense wave of pleasure-pain while Hubert appeared almost meditative. Head against on the cool wall, eyes closed. Concentrating on easing that pain by rubbing his black-veined fingers over the wet fabric between Ferdinand’s legs.

His rut may have been over for days, but by no means did that make him less…invested, in this moment.

Ferdinand had shown up unexpectedly, claiming he did try to bear the premature bouts of “nausea” on his own but failed, and Hubert couldn’t find the will to question him. Ferdinand had said there was no need to even undress, he just needed a slight bit of attention down there, and so Hubert’s considerable erection remained achingly confined. The slick he drew out of Ferdinand had his tight pants soaked to sopping. Whenever Hubert’s fingers were coated too liberally, he smeared it onto the sheets, already tinted gray with sweat, or smeared it elsewhere, like Ferdinand’s trembling inner thighs or the front of his shallowly tented pants. Just to see Ferdinand squirm with disgust, he sometimes smeared a little slick over Ferdinand’s flushed neck.

“Even now, you produce so much,” Hubert murmured, absently playing with the elasticity of the ooze between his fingers. He cracked one eye just as Ferdinand shivered harder, canting his crotch forward in a silent plea to have it touched again. Hubert obliged, using the opportunity to wipe his hand.

“So?” Ferdinand panted.

When Hubert patted his little bulge to tease him, Ferdinand let a shaky breath and instinctually leaned down for Hubert’s scent gland—only to stop himself partway.

Hubert tried not to grimace. “It’s strange. You should see someone about it.”

Although it was their simplest drawn line and longest-standing agreement, _no scenting,_ Hubert’s body prickled at the denial every single time.

“Like you care.” Ferdinand bared his neck without realizing it, and Hubert had to close his eyes again.

It was bearable, though, at least in comparison to their second oldest rule. About special occasions.

Moments later, Ferdinand stiffened with another brief, dry orgasm. Hubert could tell it was the opposite of a relief from the upset crease in his brow. He almost looked like he was about to be sick—which was why omegas called called it nausea. Without thinking, Hubert felt Ferdinand’s forehead for fever. Ferdinand blinked at him in surprise. Then looked disappointed when Hubert pulled his hand away again.

“I’m fine,” Ferdinand said, swallowing. “Just don’t stop yet.”

Hubert put a bit more energy into massaging Ferdinand’s crotch and thighs and ass, but how could Ferdinand expect adequate satisfaction without going farther?

“You need to cool down.” He nodded at Ferdinand’s uniform. “Take off that outer layer at a minimum. Those sleeves could make anyone flaccid.”

Ferdinand glared, but took the suggestion. The thin beige shirt he wore underneath was of high quality and in good condition, but dated. Dated as in the upper half of the small pearlescent buttons were clearly made for a flatter, narrower chest. Something sunk unpleasantly in Hubert’s gut, then settled lower, burning.

“I promise, just a few more minutes,” Ferdinand said, readjusting himself on Hubert’s lap and shamelessly tugging Hubert’s hand right back to where it had been. “I just need to…”

He trailed off in a low gasp as Hubert pressed hard against the fabric nearest Ferdinand’s entrance. Pressed as much into Ferdinand’s crack as he could.

“You’ll be right back here in a few hours if you don’t get all this out of your system,” Hubert said, in tone that was slower and more compelling. “How can you do that if I can’t touch you properly?”

Ferdinand winced and clenched his ass. “It’s…” _not a good idea,_ Ferdinand probably meant to say. But he didn’t. Hubert wondered if it was intentional.

Hubert wondered how strong those buttons straining over Ferdinand’s chest were. If only Ferdinand didn’t wear the finest things, his shirt would have given out by now and expose him, and Hubert could finally see skin. Last month, they’d had a particularly bad argument and Ferdinand had refused to take his shirt off even for his heat, either to feel less vulnerable or to punish Hubert.

Hubert eyed how even Ferdinand’s earlobes were flushed red now. Ears and face and neck and collarbone. Did the flush spread even below that? Hubert sudden felt desperate to know.

He placed a hand against the thick of Ferdinand’s left breast. Ferdinand’s hand instantly fluttered over his shirt buttons, but stopped himself from opening any.

Maybe it was Edelgard postponing his mission for more or less _this_ that bothered him. Maybe it was the growing impatience to see Ferdinand naked again. Either way, Hubert was frustrated. He had been frustrated. Ferdinand’s equivocating right now was frustrating him.

He decided to do something.

Ferdinand easily lost balance as Hubert pushed him off and down onto the mattress. Ferdinand’s hair splayed out gracefully, bright eyes wide as Hubert loomed.

“What—”

“I don’t have all night,” Hubert said, and he began undoing Ferdinand’s ruined uniform pants. Ferdinand blushed as he hesitantly helped tug them off.

“But—”

“It will make no difference.” Edelgard misunderstood how much all this affected him. He was in control. “Should I stop?”

Ferdinand shook his head.

_*_

Monogamy meant lower chances of contracting a disease, lower chances of deregulating their cycles, of unwittingly succumbing to some seductive enemy. Why take the time to located and vet some unknown variable? Why take the time to establish boundaries and rules and preferences all over again?

Hubert didn’t exactly trust Ferdinand to do much, but he could trust Ferdinand to join him in a broom closet and keep quiet whenever Hubert’s hormones flared up between classes. He knew Ferdinand trusted him, too; with heats as lengthy as his, Ferdinand required an alpha with certain dominant traits, such as stamina, and stamina—and exceptional stamina.

Mutual exclusivity was convenient and practical and rational. Also, on account of Ferdinand’s warped sense of noble propriety, Hubert didn’t think Ferdinand actually had it in him to seriously proposition an alpha while still so young, let alone casually proposition anyone at all. Ferdinand would insist otherwise, of course. Similarly, Hubert would claim to his dying breath that he wouldn’t blink an eye if Ferdinand decided one day to commit to someone else.

As if. He was an alpha. Barely twenty. If Hubert were ever to find someone else ushering Ferdinand though the pain of a heat…gripping the hips Ferdinand had only ever slotted into Hubert’s hands for four years…

Hubert strictly did not permit himself to think of these things.

_*_

Between the night Ferdinand payed an unplanned visit and the day commencing his true heat, Hubert and Ferdinand barely acknowledged at each other. It wasn’t unlike how terribly hungover men might keep their distance out of sheer miserable, regretful gloom. Except miserable gloom was not at all how Hubert and Ferdinand’s regret manifested.

Despite what Hubert had claimed, alphas and omegas having full-fledged intercourse outside of a heat or a rut did, in fact, make a difference. For Hubert, that difference felt like the alpha inside him was drugged with a sickeningly sweet poison.

It didn’t matter whether he kicked Ferdinand out after said sex and slept alone; it had happened, and there was no take-backs: the next morning at breakfast, Hubert’s entire being hungered to march over to wear Ferdinand sat with Bernadetta, pull him up, _pick_ him up, feel his legs wrap around his waist. Then during class, the Professor asked Ferdinand to write on the chalkboard, and Hubert had to watch him stand, watch him use his lithe, strong legs to walk to the front of the room, grip the chalk in his gloved hand. There was nothing and nobody to stop Hubert from staring at Ferdinand’s ass, which stuck out a bit now despite his concealing uniform, fuller than ever, just like his damned chest and damned personality.

Worst were the daydreams that plagued him: of Ferdinand breathing against his neck, nosing his gland, all but making a home there.

Hubert…may have read the studies. Significant sexual acts conducted outside of biological necessity had been proven in multiple studies to psychologically trigger in both alphas and omegas strong feelings of attachment. Heightened sensations of possessiveness, dominance or submission—or sometimes submission in alphas and dominance in omegas—even the desire to procreate. Typically, the heightened state was temporary, but if the alpha and omega were repeat offenders yet not mates, the state could linger for days.

Ferdinand glanced at Hubert as he returned to his seat next to Petra. The answer he’d written on the board had been deemed correct, so his face could only be an embarrassed pink for one reason. Hubert supposed the kind of scent he was putting out probably wasn’t subtle. Ferdinand himself smelled like his usual heat pheromones, only stronger and sharper and somehow _more_ heavenly. It was truly lucky for everyone that there were no other alphas or omegas in their House to smell exactly what was going on.

What was going on was a textbook case of bad timing. Unless a miracle occurred, the heightened feelings would not wear off in time for Ferdinand’s heat, and it was plenty well known that heightened feelings often lead to very precarious situations during heats.

The afternoon of the day Ferdinand was due, a piece of parchment was slipped under Hubert’s door. Only a time was written on it, as usual.

Foolish.

He singed it to ashes with a spell. Then he sat at his desk and hung his head. Daydreamed of soft lips at his neck, again. His body was a furnace of anticipation already, and the sun hadn’t even set, which was a bad sign if there ever was one. Hubert could see Edelgard’s face now: disapproving but resigned, as if she had been expecting Hubert to slip up for a long while now.

No, it wasn’t worth risking; Ferdinand would have abstain from having an alpha help him, or he would have to find someone else.

As evidenced by the parchment, Ferdinand did not at all understand the risk. It was up to Hubert to right his wrong.

*

“Who cares,” Hubert said. “Don’t you want to do it?”

It was third time he’d found himself in Aegir for “assistance.” Ferdinand’s heats were beginning to regulate, increase in frequency if not in length. Hubert suspected his father was getting paid in something besides coin for the help and discretion—which was illegal, of course, but what did that ever matter? Hubert kept waiting for someone, anyone, to proclaim that Hubert could absolutely not afford to be away from Edelgard’s side so often, but no one said anything. Not even Edelgard.

Ferdinand’s young voice still hadn’t had so much as a crack at fourteen, but it was still confident and loud. Too loud for early morning.

“No. I mean yes, but I don’t _actually_! Because if I scent you, I might… _like_ you, and you might—when I get married one day, I can only like her.”

“I would never like you.” Hubert did not mean for it to sound as reassuring as it did. Lust had been causing him to do and say a lot of things he didn’t mean lately.

Ferdinand still looked uncertain. “I know you wouldn’t on purpose. I mean accidentally. Like you accidentally scented me.”

Hubert rolled his eyes and snatched his grey shirt from Ferdinand’s hands, trying to draw attention away from his own flushed cheeks. There had been no accident. He had woken up and been warm and comfortable and Ferdinand—but Ferdinand didn’t need to know any of that. “Yes, and you smelled boring.”

“Liar. Give that back!”

“You’ve sniffed all the smell out of it already,” Hubert grumbled as he put it on again and did the buttons. It was a hot summer; he didn’t really want to. “Go find someone else’s shirt.”

“No!”

Hubert slid off the bed. “Then forget shirts. Scent someone for real and get married to them, since it’s the same to you.”

“That’s not what I said,” whined Ferdinand, punching his fists into the white, fluffy blankets. When he realized Hubert was going to actually leave the room, he grabbed his shirt collar with surprising strength. “No, don’t leave.”

Hubert turned both of his keen green eyes on him. His hair had dried so wonky from falling asleep right after a bath, it didn’t cover his right eye. “You’re being stupid. It doesn’t mean anything that I scented you for two seconds. I won’t want to _mate_ you after two seconds.”

Ferdinand froze in shock, and Hubert cursed himself. Redirected: “I bet you could scent me for a whole minute and still hate my guts just fine. Nothing would change.”

The challenge lit up Ferdinand’s eyes as intended, but Hubert only became more terrified with each word he spewed. What was he doing? What was he saying? Why did he just mention mating? Ferdinand hadn’t been talking about mating. Or was Ferdinand still so stupidly innocent that he conflated mating with marrying?

Hubert took a moment to clear his head. He was already sixteen, nearly a grown adult. His petulance was disgraceful.

Ferdinand let go of his shirt. “Fine. You’ll see!”

Hubert made a show of being annoyed as he took his shirt back off. Ferdinand’s nervousness reemerged as they arranged themselves in bed, a foot between them, Hubert with his arms crossed and his pale chest exposed, Ferdinand still in his airy, summer nightclothes, hugging his legs. For one fleeting second, Hubert wished to pull them apart to see if that little spot of wetness under the drawstrings had dried yet or not.

Hubert cursed himself again and lifted a thin eyebrow. “Do it then.”

“Right.”

Ferdinand stared at him. Hubert sighed at Ferdinand’s childishness, then turned his head slightly to bear his neck. Slowly, Ferdinand moved into his space. Leaned forward awkwardly, pressed his nose against the vicinity of the gland. Hubert felt nothing at first, and he nearly grinned with vindication. But then Ferdinand breathed in and adjusted his position just so, relaxed just so.

Hubert closed his eyes. He forgot to count the minute.

*

He kept to the library until two hours before the written time. Outside Ferdinand’s door, Hubert could hear footsteps and moving furniture, undoubtedly Ferdinand making a nest with whatever he had, plus extra pillow and blankets from Manuela, and, buried deep where Ferdinand didn’t think Hubert would notice, all the things he’d stolen from Hubert over the years: outgrown clothes, lost (clean) socks, broken quills, handkerchiefs, an old pair of gloves.

Hubert’s hand drooped slightly from where it had been about to knock. It dawned on him that this might be a lot more difficult than he hoped.

Ferdinand opened the door a crack. “Why are you just standing out there?” he said quietly. “Why are you here early?”

It took Hubert a moment to speak. His voice came out especially low. “I cannot attend tonight.”

Silence.

“This situation is my fault,” Hubert continued. “So I will do what I can to resolve it.”

“What are you talking about?” Ferdinand said, even quieter. He looked at the floor. He did not open the door wider.

“Ferdinand. You play dumb well, but not that well. In these…instances, do you take medication? Do you have a supply? I could find what you need posthaste.”

The door shut hard in his face, and Hubert blinked. A few moments later, it opened again, halfway. Ferdinand looked stressed and a little shaky. His hair was not quite perfect, which made Hubert uncomfortable.

“How kind of you to give me an _hour’s_ notice.”

“Two hours.”

Livid. Ferdinand was so livid, his bare hand trembled against the doorframe. “Two hours, my mistake. All is well.”

“It is an unfortunate—”

“ _Unfortunate._ You—” Ferdinand whispered the next word, “ _had_ me so close to my heat without a second thought. Like it was nothing. So I thought—I thought you had either gone mad or—or—”

“Or I made a bad judgement? It is plausible even for me, in fact.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” Ferdinand tried to slam the door again, but Hubert applied equal and opposite force.

“It won’t happen again. How can I help?”

“You disgust me. Leave me alone and come back at the allotted time.” Ferdinand pushed harder, gaining the advantage, so Hubert stuck his shoe in the gap.

“That would be a worse judgement,” Hubert over-articulated. “I have not felt in control of my faculties in days, and I imagine you are no better.”

Ferdinand kicked at his foot, too good-hearted to think of just slamming the door against it. “I don’t need your control, foolish—alpha!”

“Enough,” Hubert commanded, and Ferdinand cowed uncharacteristically quickly. As good as a confirmation that he was not in full control either. “I don’t know what kind of medication you use. Tell me what I need to know, and I will leave immediately.”

Ferdinand leaned against the doorframe heavily, staring at the floor again. “What medication?”

“A spell then. Shall I fetch Manuela? She is a—”

“I know perfectly well what she is,” Ferdinand hissed. Hubert had not seen him so on edge in a long time. “By no means does that make her capable of magicking me out of this very ‘unfortunate’ situation.”

“Then what do you do when I am away for your heat? Unless you can somehow masterfully purge the smell of someone else, I assume—”

“Someone else?” Tears sprung to Ferdinand’s eyes, but they were blinked back quickly. “You have gone mad.”

Hubert ignored his relief. “Then what?”

“Nothing.” Ferdinand shook his head and smiled. “I do nothing! What did you think? I lay here and stave off fever with your—” He tilted his head in a challenge. “I steal your clothes, you know. You are an ignoble enough person that I feel no guilt about it. That scarf Edelgard bought you when yours was lost? It’s mine now, as well as the one you lost. I have no fear that you will ask me to return them; the sanctity of Edelgard buying one of them for you is surely ruined by how it smells like _me._ And the other—” He laughed humorlessly. “The other scarf has yet to be washed even once.” His eyes looked the slightest bit crazed, hopefully from the onsetting heat. “I save it for when I am most desperate.”

Hubert opened his mouth, speechless. Ferdinand suddenly opened the door wider and stuck a finger hard into his chest.

“ _You_ may find it easy to—to treat this like it is a mere convenience, but—” Ferdinand’s expression broke momentarily before he schooled it again. “I am not like you. I cannot…I do not…” His gaze became distant, his expression blank. “There is no medication or magic I can rely on, Hubert. I only have you.”

Any remaining glow he had seemed to fade as he fell silent. He looked more than a little under the weather, now.

“Because of that,” Ferdinand said, “I find it hard to remember sometimes that you do not rely on me.” He nodded once, with purpose. “I apologize for my outburst. You are right; I feel unwell even outside my usual symptoms. But that is no excuse. You have never been under any obligation to do anything for me.”

He seemed to struggle to meet Hubert’s eyes for any length of time. Instead, they fell on Hubert’s limp hands. “But if you do wish to ease your conscience, I would appreciate you lending me those gloves.” His grin was small and joyless. “You’ve worn that pair to class all summer. I expect they reek to high heaven.”

*

One of Ferdinand’s servants walked in on them at the wrong moment. Plump, freckled Ferdinand was curled over Hubert’s sprawled gangly body, mouthing with his small red lips Hubert’s neck and throat like it was coated with something sweet. Hubert’s hands had tentatively roamed around to Ferdinand’s backside for the first time, fulfilling a greedy desire that had been dogging him for weeks.

They weren’t even undressed, but she shrieked. Ferdinand was so mortified all the while, scrambling and explaining and correcting himself and apologizing, he didn’t even cry. He looked green. Hubert, for his part, was so overwhelmed by what came before getting caught that he didn’t even shoot Ferdinand’s father a dirty look on the way out. He stared at his hands in the carriage, still tingling with a phantom sensation of the thin and silky fabric, the weight of Ferdinand’s body just underneath. Did he like Ferdinand now? No. Maybe. He couldn’t tell.

He just knew his neck felt naked. Which wasn’t logical at all.


	3. Chapter 3

He realized too late that Ferdinand didn’t actually want him to hand over his gloves. Instead, Ferdinand stared at the offer in despair and turned to lock himself in his room.

Hubert would normally be unfazed by these kinds of dramatics. So he attributed it to the heightened sense of attachment still lingering in his system when he knocked. Knocked again. Called his name and received no answer.

Hubert pulled his gloves back on as he weighed his options. Hubert knew he would be winning, in a way, if he walked away and left Ferdinand to sulk. He also knew that Ferdinand would feel like he was the winner if Hubert walked away, because then was justified in sulking even more.

Hubert bristled. He couldn’t possibly leave Ferdinand to mistakenly believe he had won anything, let alone an argument.

Was that what this was? “You are mistaken,” he tried again. “Open the door.”

No answer. Glancing around the hall again, Hubert said leaned in and said less bluntly, “My intention that night was not to make you feel used. Neither did I go mad. I simply made…”

Hubert trailed off as he understood. Ferdinand He rubbed his brow for a long moment. The best option was to leave and return later, after Ferdinand’s heat. But then again, he was meant to leave Garreg Mach right afterward. Hubert could never predict how his missions would go. There was always a chance he might not come back.

Waves of cool and warm were disrupting his body’s equilibrium. His throat itched. Hubert wondered if perhaps he was the one being dramatic.

“Ferdinand. I have been trying to speak from a rational standpoint. But you have always preferred when others speak from the heart.” Hubert breathed out, “We made a mistake to compromise ourselves before your heat, but I did not make it because you were merely convenient. You were not the mistake.”

More silence, then the knob turned a little. Stopped. “Then why,” came Ferdinand’s voice.

 _Because I wanted to, just like you,_ Hubert would say, if he were the kind of person who would say it. “Because you were in pain.”

The door finally opened, a reluctant invitation, and Hubert was quick to step inside and close it behind them. When he inhaled, he had to make an effort not to let the powerful scent of the room overwhelm him.

Ferdinand kept his distance across the small space by leaning against the window sill. He still wore his uniform, but without his cravat, boots, or gloves. His shin shone slightly with sweat. His eyes looked oddly sunken. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

Hubert waited.

“I don’t want you to pity me,” Ferdinand said. “Everyone else already does.”

Hubert laughed his low laugh. “Pity? That would be the day.”

“Well…” Ferdinand’s dark expression eased up at that. “I suppose. I always liked that you hated your traits just as much as I hated mine. Our one bit of camaraderie.” He held his arms, like he was suddenly chilly. Hubert felt compelled to go and warm him, but stayed by the door.

“Then you must agree,” Hubert said carefully, to disguise any waver in his tone, “that we simply cannot risk amplifying the burden.”

Taking a deep breath, Ferdinand stared at his bed. It was temporarily shoved into the corner to keep its ordered mess of clothing and comfort items from falling off. Ferdinand hugged himself tighter. His face was flushed. He looked desperate to crawl onto the mattress. Anxious and conflicted. “I know. I know that. But I think…we’ll be fine.” He abruptly chuckled. “We’re not _that_ close, after all. You hate me. Don’t you?”

Hubert watched Ferdinand continue chuckling to himself.

“You have Edelgard,” Ferdinand said, looking at Hubert now. Eyes flitting unsteadily over his body. “You are as good as bound to her already. There isn’t a risk—” He took a few steps forward and met Hubert’s gaze with eyes that no longer looked sober. “There’s no risk. I've decided. You’ve overblown things.”

And then Ferdinand was right before him, casting off pheromones that had Hubert’s hands shaking. He should not have come inside. This was why—

Ferdinand grabbed his forearms and pulled him toward the bed. “You should trust yourself more, Hubert.” He climbed on the mattress, getting a few inches on Hubert while kneeling. He seemed to deeply enjoy looking down on him, sticking a finger playfully in the slit of Hubert’s collar. “Really. You’re supposed to be the cool, calculated one.”

Hubert tried to follow, but thinking was becoming like a stroll in thick fog. That was not normal. They should be fucking by now, not playing word games. Hubert should be making Ferdinand feel good, as he should have at the first sign of stress, because he relied on Hubert. He relied on only him. “I was trying to be,” he said, frowning up. “You were not…” Words evaded him. “Receptive.”

He should have known the conversation was as good as over when Ferdinand pressed his small nose against his neck and inhaled. Hubert’s heart pounded, but he did not touch. But he could not move away. “What if you ask for something you don’t mean? You are compromised, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand tried to scent him again, but Hubert stopped him this time, very aware of Ferdinand’s interest pressing against him. Ferdinand pulled back with a frustrated expression.

“I am always compromised,” he said. “Do you really not understand? I don’t _want_ to rely on anyone else.”

Hubert wrapped his arms around him, and Ferdinand all but melted with relief. His skin was hot to the touch. Too hot, burning from the inside. He whispered, “Please don’t leave.”

The break in his voice resolved Hubert. He pressed a hand to the back of Ferdinand’s head. “I will stay. But—” He moved one shoulder out of reach, prompting Ferdinand to actually look him in the eye. “No scenting. I am not immune to you.”

Ferdinand pouted, swaying to one side like a drunk until Hubert held him tighter and gave him an unimpressed look. Ferdinand just returned it with his best rendition of ‘wounded doe.’ “Yes you are,” he muttered. “You would never mate me. Not even accidentally.”

Hubert did his best to repress an acute, racking shiver at the word. “For your pride’s sake, I hope you are too far gone to remember any of this.”

He did most of the work undressing them. He held onto control like a sacred tome, pages barely held together by a weak spine. Hubert was gentle, far more gentle than Ferdinand usually liked, but Ferdinand was not quite there to complain. Hubert kept telling himself to get through this difficult start, and Ferdinand’s heat would surely tame itself overnight.

Ferdinand proved to be too overwhelmed to mention mating again, which was good for Hubert’s ability to plod through his own fog. Not so good was Ferdinand’s incessant attempts to scent him. With mating still too near the forefront of his mind, Hubert had no choice but make it stop.

He coaxed Ferdinand’s mouth away from his neck in the only wordless way he knew—with his own, an open kiss, then two, as many as it took. It was not real kissing, not if Ferdinand wasn’t really here, but that didn’t stop Hubert’s body from reacting as if it was. Heart squeezing, skin itching, cock throbbing twice as hard. Ferdinand was too beautiful when he was kissed. He looked like he was in love.

*

Around Hubert’s eighteenth birthday, Edelgard him a question.

“Do you like going?”

An innocent question she had good reason to ask, considering, “You usually like to stay home for your birthday and pretend it doesn’t happen. Also, it’s quite cold in Aegir now, and you don’t like the cold.”

“My Lady,” he interrupted. But how to answer? “I confess it did not occur to me to make changes to my routine on behalf of the date or the weather.”

“So you like going?” Edelgard was quick and had no trouble keeping up with his long strides. “If you don’t don’t see reason to change your routine even in unfavorable conditions?”

“He…will be your Prime Minister someday.” They were nearing the gates, where the carriage awaited.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” Edelgard said, astutely.

Hubert rather wished to be swallowed up by the carriage, but he could not leave any question of Edelgard’s unsatisfactorily answered. So he stopped walking and looked down at her. Their heights had become disparate. “I hope you remember,” he said without reproach, “We don’t nothing untoward. He is not of age, and his heats are still very mild. We don’t—I am just a comfort to a hormonal brat, and because my father benefits from it, he’s been leaving me more to my own devices, enabling us to move more freely in our pursuits.”

She tilted her chin up, acknowledging this. Her hair shone bright white. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty.” He steeled himself. “My answer is that I do not find myself ever wishing to leave you, but as long as you are safe with eyes and ears I trust, and the trip is not long, and I get my hands on another few of Aegir’s secrets, I don’t find myself wishing not to see him, either.”

She nodded properly this time, solemn as ever, and Hubert approached and entered the carriage after nodding in return. Only too late did he realize he’d answered a slightly different question.

The ride was bumpy and long, and thinking about Ferdinand’s father made him tense with spite and hate, but the resulting exhaustion mysteriously relegated itself to the back of his mind when he stepped out of the carriage at Aegir’s ostentatious estate. Moments later, he spotted Ferdinand in his high bedroom window, waving as soon as he realized Hubert was looking at him.

Ferdinand’s mother greeted him inside instead of Ludwig this time, which was a relief. She was quiet and kind and…simple. Ferdinand loved her immensely, but it was upon discovering this third trait that Hubert realized why Ferdinand kept her safe behind the wall of his heart and did not readily speak of her.

Hubert wondered what side of the wall he stood on when he came here.

Hours later, Ferdinand announced something. “I figured it out. I figured out how we can stop accidentally scenting for sure.”

Hubert didn’t look up from his book. “Is it a foolproof solution? Or did you think of it ten seconds ago?”

Ferdinand shoved a foot into his stomach. He had too much energy, but Hubert supposed he always had too much energy when he was in heat. Rather like shaking off a pup in the same condition, Hubert only had to shake Ferdinand off if he got weird. When Ferdinand’s foot lingered too long, Hubert gripped it in a way that threatened a clean break. Ferdinand pulled away.

“I’ve thought it out. Are you listening? Here it is. If we ever feel like scenting, we can just…”

Hubert looked up and raised an eyebrow. Ferdinand’s face, still a bit pudgy with childishness, was pink. “What?”

“We can just, you know. Kiss instead. It feels good, and gender has nothing to do with it, so things would never get weird.”

Never get weird. As if things weren’t already. “Have you ever kissed someone?” he asked.

Ferdinand gawked unnecessarily. _“Yes.”_

Hubert rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t accusing you, dolt.”

“Have you?”

Hubert blinked and lost his line on the page. With a condescending tone, he answered, “Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“None of your business.”

“Would you stop reading for a second?”

“Entertain yourself,” Hubert drawled, but then Ferdinand’s face was very close.

It had been easier, since meeting Ferdinand’s mother, to understand why Ferdinand looked the way he did. She was still one of the most beautiful women Hubert had ever seen. Like hers, Ferdinand’s eyes were a rare orange-amber that would have expression and depth even plucked from his pretty head. They stared right into Hubert’s.

“At least give it a chance,” Ferdinand said, in a tone almost certainly used to get everything he wanted.

Hubert shut his book. Then he sat up and looked straight into Ferdinand’s eyes. Ferdinand stared back at Hubert’s stony face until he frowned and mumbled to never mind.

“Are you a nobleman or not?” Hubert asked. “Too scared?”

Ferdinand stilled. “You…want to?”

“No. I want to know if you can.”

Who among Ferdinand’s posh noble friends wouldn’t be too scared to kiss someone like Hubert? Long pale limbs, sharp features, sharper cheekbones. His heavy brow promised shrewd judgement, and his vibrant green eyes were rumored to be somehow unnatural. Covering one of them was coarse hair didn’t like to stay clean; Hubert kept it this way to both put his enemies at ease and make them all the warier. Hubert had yet to determine if Ferdinand might one day be an enemy.

Three seconds passed, and then Ferdinand kissed him.

It was only a soft, lingering press of lips. Hubert had a feeling Ferdinand lied about kissing before. Not that this counted. Hubert pulled away, feigning disinterest and dismissing how his body was trembling just the slightest bit.

He said, “I don’t see why would I want to do that more than scent someone, as an alpha.”

Ferdinand didn’t argue. He just scooted back and shrugged, and for the rest of the evening made a genuine effort not to seem disappointed. Hubert was involuntarily attuned to Ferdinand’s moods, though, so the effort was pointless.

As they lay and waited for sleep, Hubert told himself it wasn’t regret that drove him to press against Ferdinand’s back, holding him the way he had done only once before during an especially difficult wave of heat dizziness. The experience was like holding a pillow, really. Just longer and squirmier and more often than not woke up with evidence of wet dreams. An annoying pillow that turned over in the middle of the night and kissed him again.

Hubert pretended to sleep as Ferdinand kissed a second time. Then Hubert opened his eyes slowly, his version of mercy, and Ferdinand shrunk back.

“Only cowards kiss like that” Hubert murmured into the dark. “Without permission.”

Ferdinand’s wide eyes reflected the moon shining in. “I’m sorry.”

Hubert felt sleep slide off of him too easily. “You have to ask. Like this. With confidence.” He sat up onto his forearm. He didn’t know what he was doing. Why he was speaking. “I want to kiss you. May I?”

Ferdinand realized Hubert was waiting for an answer even before Hubert did, nodding once. Hubert leaned down and pretended he knew everything. The right way to press, the right slow speed, the right balance of indulgence and restraint. Not that he had been…imaging anything.

This time, Ferdinand was the one who couldn’t move; another kiss that didn’t count. Nevertheless, Hubert let himself savor one last moment before pulling away and turning over to face the window. He fell asleep to the quiet sound of Ferdinand trying to catch his breath.

Ferdinand’s doctor arrived at nine the next morning, as was the routine, and determined that Ferdinand’s heat this month seemed to be concluding early. Hubert was free to go. After the doctor left, Ferdinand looked so dramatically devastated, he could have been given a terminal illness.

“You’ll at least stay for cake, right?” he asked.

Hubert’s stomach twisted. “Cake?”

“Well, it’s not made yet. I was going to have it brought up to my room after dinner, since I thought you wouldn’t want an audience…”

Hubert said nothing.

“For you birthday,” Ferdinand said, eyebrows furrowing. “Edelgard wrote me a letter telling me, and I wrote her back saying it would be the best one you ever had. But I suppose that’s ruined. Because of…” His shoulders sagged.

Hubert was not alone in hating his unpredictable hormones, then. “Thank you,” he said stiffly. “But I should go.”

Ferdinand watched him pack his things, and for once, his silence was unwanted. When Hubert approached the bedroom door, Ferdinand tried to offer to walk him down to the gate. Hubert declined.

“Fine. But wait.”

Hubert waited.

Ferdinand stood straighter. “I want to kiss you.”

Hubert sucked in a slow breath and glanced at Ferdinand’s lips. He knew last night was not a dream. None of this was a dream. He could remember every moment. The moon in warm eyes, especially. Delicate lips against his neck a year ago, most of all.

He could no more answer Ferdinand’s question aloud than Ferdinand could ask it. This would count.

Hubert patiently crossed the space between them until there were only inches. He had to look down, but not by much, with Ferdinand catching up in height. Ferdinand folded his hands behind his back like he was afraid of what else he might do with them. They leaned in. The press was chaste. Like a simple sendoff before a journey. Which it was, Hubert supposed. He had not expected such a sensible first kiss.

Later, Hubert wrote a letter explaining why Ferdinand’s replacement theory was deeply flawed. In his postscript, however, he noted that he would not be averse to the occasional pointless indulgence on other special occasions, such as Ferdinand’s birthday the following year. Ferdinand responded in the most inflated, roundabout, inexplicably passive aggressive language Hubert had ever read saying that he looked forward to it, and there would be cake.


	4. Chapter 4

Hubert returned the second evening of Ferdinand’s heat at dusk, and Ferdinand wasted no time pulling him into bed—like a burrowing animal, he pressed himself as close as possible, hitching one leg between Hubert’s and resting his cheek on Hubert’s collarbone. Ferdinand breathed in so deep, Hubert worried how much Ferdinand had been breathing at all before then.

“Do you remember,” Hubert found himself saying, “how you used to fear your future wife’s wrath in the event you became unintentionally enamored with me?”

Hubert could feel Ferdinand’s amusement all over. The solid weight of him was comforting beyond words. He almost smiled, until Ferdinand’s knee started moving up into dangerous territory. Hubert added, “It was always odd to me how you could be so committed and in love with someone who wasn’t so much as an imaginary friend.”

A long, quiet minute passed. Then Ferdinand sat up and straddled him. “I don’t think about it anymore. I’ve been—” He looked away, rather demurely. “Distracted.”

“With training, I’m sure.”

Ferdinand started taking off the sleep shirt he’d been wearing. “It’s more the…time we spend in broom closets, to be honest.” Soon his upper half was naked in all its muscled glory, expanding and contracting with full breaths. Ferdinand grinned and pulled eagerly at Hubert’s uniform, reaching under the fabric to undo the three buttons holding the front of his pants together.

But instead of going further, he paused. Then leaned down, rested his bare arms on the mattress to frame Hubert’s head, and Hubert expected to be scented. But Ferdinand pressed their lips together. Hubert closed his eyes as he felt each of Ferdinand’s fingers trail along his face, pushing his bangs away, leveraging the kiss deeper. Ferdinand’s nose brushed delicately against his skin.

When Hubert rant out of air, he pushed Ferdinand away. “What are you doing?”

Ferdinand grinned wider, smug. “I don’t care about special occasions anymore. If you want to—” He flushed. “If you want to have sex unnecessarily, then I get to kiss unnecessarily.”

He was seeing Ferdinand too well, now. Too much of him, too clearly. He was beautiful, clumsy art. “That’s—”

“Logical, I think.” Ferdinand kissed him again, but too quick and short for Hubert to throw him off.

Hubert glared. Ferdinand stared right back. When Hubert opened his mouth to speak, Ferdinand leaned down like a flash and nipped at Hubert’s bottom lip. He just giggled when Hubert tried to shove him away and held on tighter. “Stop being obnoxious,” Hubert muttered, knowing his face was burning as he tried to sit up. Ferdinand fought, but his empty brain was too becoming too heat-addled again to give him any sense of strategy.

Luckily, Ferdinand at least let him stand on solid ground when it seemed to occur to him that a standing position was the easiest way for Hubert to get undressed. Which was in fact, Hubert’s plan all along.

*

By the third evening, Hubert found it easier to keep kissing than to stop and breathe. A haze filled his mind as he thrusted between the legs hooked over his shoulders, and it barely receded when they took an intermission so Hubert could go to class. Either it was a miracle no one had given him any weird looks, or Hubert was too blissed to notice.

There was a difference between assisting a heat and truly participating in one. There was a difference between hearing Ferdinand’s breathless approval and tasting that approval himself, kissing it away, cutting it off until it became a moan instead.

On the fourth and final evening, Hubert neglected more than a few tasks so he could return early to Ferdinand’s dorm and experience again the satisfaction of someone so ridiculous and beautiful look so overjoyed to have him back. When Hubert left Ferdinand’s dorm the next morning, he knew he may never step inside again. He had a final mission to go on before he and Edelgard made their move.

He hoped.

He hoped that something had shifted between himself and Ferdinand, just enough that Ferdinand would forgive him for keeping him in the dark—or rather, the opposite. Hubert hoped what they had, for now, would be enough for Ferdinand to stay on their side. Even if it wasn’t, at least they both knew before a war came what it was like to be scented and kissed and loved, all at the same time.

*

“You look refreshed this morning,” Edelgard would say, three years, five years, decades later. She would straighten Hubert’s hair and collar with an amused grin, because she misunderstood nothing, and Hubert would blame his mate for allowing him to face the day unkempt.

Somehow, Ferdinand would know to laugh right on cue wherever he was. In the monastery, in the palace, or far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets all pray to ferdinand's hairbrush that things get better. its been a rough week. kind words are always very appreciated. 
> 
> this ship is just.......the good shit. its just good. thanks for reading.


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